Chapter 3

Nathan stepped off the trolley on Exchange Street at the corner of Elderberry and walked to number 213. He climbed the porch steps and rang the bell.

"Come in, come in," Iris said as she opened the door. Nathan regarded her from head to toe to head again. "Well, what do you think?"

Iris wore a sheer blouse that revealed a hot-pink bra underneath. She had on a denim miniskirt that clung to her hips like a coat of paint and she wore hot pink fishnet stockings that matched her bra.

Nathan shook his head. "You look sensational."

"The last time I wore this must've been eighteen years ago. Believe me, the last time the skirt didn't fit like this. I've added a few inches over the years..." She slapped her hips. " ... mainly here. I had to resort to a pair of industrial-strength Spanx to get into this. I hope I don't have a wardrobe failure."

"You look terrific," he replied. "Although the fuzzy slippers will have to go."

She pointed to the corner. "I'm trying to decide whether to go with the boots or the platforms. What do you think?"

"I think either would be good."

"Which is better?"

Nathan pondered. "I'd go with the boots."

"So would I. I just hope I can fit in them."

"You haven't added inches to your feet, have you?"

"No, but I have added some to my calves." She slipped off a slipper and pushed her foot into one of the boots. "Now for the moment of truth ... can I get it zipped?" She tugged on the zipper, guiding it with her finger, pressing against the flesh of her calf. "Come on, Iris -- suck in those calves ... Ummph! Looks like it's a no-go ... It'll have to be the platforms. Getting older sucks, Nathan. Take it from the voice of experience..." She slipped into the platforms and fastened the straps.

"The platforms look great," he said. "You have nice-looking legs, Iris. Maybe it's better not to hide them in tall boots."

"Let me look at you..." She scanned him. He had abandoned his Goth attire in favor of worn and ripped black jeans, an oversized plaid flannel shirt and old tennis shoes. In lieu of his bowler hat he wore his hair in a spiky Mohawk. Instead of his wire-framed glasses he had a pair with black plastic frames and square lenses.

"These are a pair of jeans I wear when I have to do dirty work at the office -- pull cable and so on. I borrowed one of Larry's shirts."

"Larry is into grunge?" she asked.

"Larry IS grunge, but not from a fashion sense. He just is. I had to fumigate this shirt before I put it on. These glasses are left over from my previous style. The prescription is a little weak for me but they'll do."

"You change your style?" she asked.

"Yeah, every four or five years when I get tired of the current one. I bought some heavy-duty goo for my hair ... some stuff called Gorilla Snot I think."

Iris laughed. "I used some mousse on mine -- I was trying for the big hair look from back then. I dug through cartons of stuff from years ago looking for something appropriate. I decided to go with your basic skank."

"Skank always is in style," he remarked.

"Do you think this skirt is too revealing?" She turned to model it for him.

"I think it is just revealing enough. You look great in it. You look sensational, Iris."

"You should've seen me when I was your age. I was a knockout!"

"You're a knockout, now. It wouldn't surprise me if you got picked up tonight."

"Flatterer..." She picked up a small envelope purse. "Shall we? I thought we could have pizza at Vinnie's before going to the club. No sense getting there TOO early."

Iris used her key to set the front door deadbolt. She led Nathan to her maroon Dodge Caravan. He climbed into the passenger seat and fastened his belt.

"I know the way to Vinnie's," she said. "You'll need to navigate to the club." She fastened her belt and started the motor.

It was a short drive to Vinnie's, in the corner of an older and smaller strip mall. She parked the car and they went inside, taking a table in a booth by a large picture window overlooking the parking lot. "Have you been here before?" she asked.

"I don't get to this part of town very often."

"They have the best pizza. What do you like?"

"I'm not fussy. What do you like?"

"I usually order pepperoni, sausage and onion."

"That's fine with me," Nathan replied.

"Should we go with a medium or large? How hungry are you?"

"How big is a large?"

"Sixteen inches. A medium is fourteen I think."

"We should be able to polish a medium, don't you think?" Nathan asked. "That way we won't have leftovers to deal with."

"You won't walk away hungry, will you?"

"There will be snacks at the club."

"Right, right..." A server approached the table. "One medium pepperoni, sausage and onion," Iris said. "And a glass of Chianti."

"Something for you?" the server asked Nathan.

"How about a Lite Draft?"

"Can I see your IDs?"

Iris produced hers from her purse. The server glanced at it and nodded. Nathan dug his wallet out of his pocket and showed her his license. "This doesn't look like you."

"I'm in my fatigues today," he replied. "Can't you see the resemblance?"

"I'll vouch for him," Iris added. "He is Nathan North."

"Okay, I'll be out with your drinks."

Iris put her hand over her mouth. "It has been years since I've had to worry about being carded," she said. "Do I really look like a twenty-something?"

"You certainly don't look like someone pushing forty. Not in that outfit."

The server returned and set a mug of beer before Nathan and a glass of red wine in front of Iris. "Your pizza will be right out."

Iris picked up her glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

"I have been so looking forward to this, Nathan. I'm almost giddy with anticipation. It's been ages since I've had an opportunity to dress up. I mean, other than wearing a suit skirt and jacket, which I wear everyday."

"I don't get out much, either," Nathan replied. "It's a treat."

The server placed places, knives and forks in front of them and then set the pizza in the center of the table. "Can I get you anything else?"

"I think we're fine," Iris replied.

Nathan helped himself to a slice. "This is good. I don't think we'll leave here hungry."

Nathan sat in the passenger seat of Iris's minivan. She fastened her belt and retrieved her keys from her bag. "That was potent wine," she remarked. "I'm feeling it ... in my knees."

"Are you okay driving?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. One glass of wine isn't going to impair me." She started the car and backed it out of the parking stall. "Tell me the best way to go."

"You should head over to Colvin," he replied.

"I think I know how to do that..." She turned onto a boulevard and stopped at a red light.

"Once you're past Washington, you need to look for Beech Street."

The light changed and she stepped on the accelerator. "That's a few blocks yet."

"A few..." Nathan watched the intersections whiz by. "Here's Washington."

"Check."

"You need to make a right onto Beech and then a left onto Hoyt. It's about halfway down the block on Hoyt. There's a municipal parking lot about a quarter block beyond that."

"Got it." She turned onto Hoyt and drove past a storefront that had been converted into the club. A neon sign reading Dulce Nota glowed over the door.

"Park over there," Nathan said, pointing. Iris pulled into the lot and switched off the ignition. She pressed her key to lock the doors and Nathan escorted her into the club.

"We are a bit early," he remarked.

"I can't wait to see what the other patrons are wearing."

A clean-cut young man approached the table. "Nathan? I didn't recognize you at first. You're out of uniform, soldier."

"Evan -- this is Iris. Evan owns the club."

"I'm pleased you decided to grace us with your presence." He waved toward a server. "Barb -- a round for these folks on the house."

Iris took a drinks menu card from the center of the table. "Oooh ... I haven't had a lemon drop in years."

"Draft Lite," Nathan said.

"No need to card 'em," Evan said. "How do you like the new look?"

"You added lights ... I like the tile work."

"Our DJ's here. Do you listen to Gold-97?"

"I don't listen to the radio much."

"It's Bradley Green from the station. I gotta get him set up. Enjoy the show, folks."

"Thanks for the drinks," Iris called after him.

"I should warn you," Nathan said, "that Evan does not believe in skimping on the spirits."

Barb carried a tray to their table and set their drinks down. Iris picked hers up and sipped. "Mmm ... Nice ... nice and strong."

"We're having a contest tonight," Barb explained. "We call it Stump the DJ. If you make a request for mainstream act from the 80's -- artist, album and song -- and the DJ doesn't have it in his collection, then Bradley Green buys you a round." She set a handful of three-by-five index cards on the table. "Write your requests on these. Hold one up and one of us will take it to the stage for you."

"That sounds like fun," Iris remarked.

Evan approached the table. "Can I borrow you, pal?"

"What's the matter?"

"A little technical difficulty."

"Excuse me." Nathan followed Evan backstage. He opened an equipment rack and ran his finger along cables.

"We're lucky you showed up tonight," Evan said. "Looks like the left front channel is dead."

"What the ... Looks like a blown out power amp." Nathan held his hand out, palm up. "Screwdriver."

Evan opened a desk drawer and handed him the tool. Nathan slid a chassis from the rack. "Yep. What I can do is to cannibalize a surround amp for your left channel. We can hook up the surrounds together so instead of left-rear and right-rear you have center-rear. That'll get us through tonight. Maybe I can get this amp back in action by Monday."

"That's the best we can do?"

"I'm afraid so," Nathan replied. He made the necessary circuit adjustments. "Okay, try it."

Evan stepped onstage. Music came from the sound system and he bounded back to Nathan's side. "We're good. Thanks, buddy. I'll buy you another round."

Nathan returned to his table. Iris had emptied her glass. "What was that about?"

"Bad amp. I'll work on it for him over the weekend. He's good for now, and the live bands bring in their own gear. They're closed Sunday and Monday, so I should have him back in business by next week.

Barb returned to the table. "Evan says another round. Same again?"

Nathan held up his three-quarters full glass. "I'm good for now."

"Mam? Another lemon drop?"

Iris scanned the drinks menu. "I think I'll go with a vodka collins."

"Instead of another beer," Nathan asked, "can you substitute a plate of nachos?"

Barb nodded. "You've got it."

Nathan regarded Iris. "Tell me your story."

"What story?"

"How you got where you are."

"Not much to tell ... I went to college, got a degree in education. Went to grad school and got my PhD."

"Where did you go?"

"For grad school? Cornell. I have a PhD in Comparative Lit and a concurrent masters in education. I spent a couple years as an assistant prof, meanwhile I took some courses in school administration. I met Henrik ... my ex ... while he was doing graduate work there. After he finished his PhD in Environmental Toxicology, he landed a job here. We got married and I applied for a position as assistant principal. A couple years later, Katie came along."

Barb set the plate of nachos on the table and a glass before Iris. Nathan picked one up and ate it while Iris sipped her collins. "Go on," he said.

"Well ... Henrik liked the notion of being a father much more than he liked being a father."

"You married a guy named Henrik. What did you expect?"

Iris giggled. "I guess I got what I deserved. Katie tied him down, and caring for her, juggling daycare and doing my job left me very little time to give him much attention. He responded by starting an affair with a lab assistant. I was clueless for four years..."